


Broken Crown

by bispaceprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Actress Clarke, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Minor Monty Green/Nathan Miller, Minor Octavia Blake/Raven Reyes, Police Officer Bellamy, Suicide Attempt, minor clexa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bispaceprincess/pseuds/bispaceprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hollywood royalty Clarke Griffin is having trouble coping with the perfect plan laid out for her since she was a child and her now burgeoning success. After an awards night, she makes a drunken cry for help and is saved by Officer Bellamy Blake. Now she has to make a decision, will she go back to the plan that made her so desperately unhappy or finally take back control of her life and follow her heart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the amazing movie 'Beyond The Lights'!

Bellamy stood outside the hotel room, trying not to fall back against the wall and fall asleep. It felt sort of ridiculous to be guarding an empty room, but Miller had begged him to take his shift so he could ‘accidentally’ run into the cute biochemist he had met last week when they had investigated a break in at his company, and though he would fight anyone who said it to his face Bellamy was a huge softie at his core. Not to mention he was looking forward to seeing his baby sister, Octavia, on the job. It wasn’t often that he got to run into her while she worked as an assistant on his job.

He was interrupted in his musings about how incredibly awkward and flustered Miller must be right now when he heard a group of people coming. He straightened up quickly and watched as they approached.

 

He had met Clarke before, he wouldn’t go so far to say that he knew her, but Octavia worked for her as her assistant and they had seen each other several times in passing, had stilted conversations that consisted solely of small talk.  Usually Clarke Griffin just looked like a normal girl, a very pretty girl, don’t get him wrong, but a normal girl nonetheless. Now? She was dressed in a outfit that was one shade away from lingerie and her eyes were rimmed in heavy black makeup, making her light blue eyes even more piercing. Stilettos that must have been over 5 inches in height enhanced the long expanse of her bared legs; if she stood next to him she would probably reach his jaw now. She was flanked by a pack of stylists and makeup artists. He was so taken aback by how different she looked now from the quiet hoodie wearing girl who had thanked him in a small voice once when he held the door open for her that he almost didn’t notice how bad she looked.

She had a lot of makeup on, but there was a light sheen of sweat on her face and chest. Her eyes looked glassy and unfocused. Her smoky eye was creased and smudged off towards her temple on the right, like she had been wiping away a tear. Her skimpy outfit was showing off a lot of skin, but she looked cold and clammy. Her heels were stunning and sculptural but the steps she was taking were unsteady and he saw her stumble once before her stylist caught her arm and pulled her back up. She ripped her arm out of her grasp before speeding ahead of them towards him.

“Don’t let anyone in behind me,” she said dully, before pausing as she swiped her keycard to get in and adding, “Please.”

He caught her eyes for a second and gave a minute nod before she brushed past him and closed the door. A moment later the rest of her entourage caught up.

“Uh, we need to get in there,” said the skinny brunette with a braided Mohawk wearing an outfit that would look more at home in a BDSM scene than a hotel hallway.

“Yeah,” added the one beside her, who looked a lot more normal, but with a determined glint in her eye that told him she was probably the one he needed to watch out for. “Clarke needs to get changed and ready for the after party. Let us in.”

“Sorry no can do ladies,” he replied, crossing his arms and putting an extra gruffness into his voice letting them know he wasn't backing down. He was feeling confident that he would be successful when he heard the distinctive sound of heels coming around the corner followed by the presence of Abby Griffin.

Everyone in L.A. knew about Abby Griffin. She was practically Hollywood royalty, coming from a long line of actors and directors, but more importantly she had a reputation for making all manners of service staff feel as small as insects with a single quirk of her perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“What’s happening here?” she asked in a sharp tone as she approached. “Clarke needs to be getting ready for the after party, what are you doing in the hall?”

“He,” BDSM Barbie answered as she pointed her thumb towards him, “won’t let us in.”

Trying to stand his ground, Bellamy hooked his own thumbs into his utility belt and turned to Abby and spoke, “Clarke specifically asked not to be followed Ma’am.”

 Even though she couldn’t have been more than 5’4” and he topped her by at least 6 inches, he felt like she looked him directly in his eyes.

“I’m going to give you 5 seconds to let me into that room before I call your manager and let him know how you’ve refused to allow me into my own hotel room.”

Bellamy considered it for a moment, and then decided that even though Clarke had looked small and broken and frail, he wasn’t about to put his job on the line for her. Besides she had probably just meant the entourage, not her mother. With a hum of dissatisfaction he drew the key card from his pocket and opened the door for her.

She turned for a moment to tell the others to come back in 20 minutes exactly then stalked passed him into the room without so much as a thank you.

He had just begun to silently berate her in his mind when he heard an ear piercing screech and Abby’s voice shouting “Oh my god! Clarke!”

 

He rushed into the room, his hand coming to the gun at his hip, ready to draw it at a moments notice when he saw what was happening. Clarke was sitting on the railing of the balcony, of her twelfth story room. Abby was at the door to the balcony and beginning to yell at Clarke to get down right this instant. As Abby’s voice picked up in decibel he could see Clarke’s hand beginning to loose its hold on the railing. He rushed over to Abby and put his hand on her shoulder. When she turned towards him with a murderous gaze he explained in a low whisper that she needed to leave, or at least stay right here and be quiet. “I’ve got this,” He reassured her, before turning his full attention to Clarke.

She had removed her shoes and left them in a pile on the balcony and he could see her small feet swaying lightly. Her face was turned down and obscured by her blonde curls and he could barely hear a small sniffle.

“Clarke?” He said softly. “What’s the matter?”

She shook her head lightly but didn’t answer him and he edged closer slowly.  “Could you look at me for a second?” he asked, to no response. “Please.”

He tried again, softer, letting the desperation he felt seep into his voice just a little, “Please.”

She turned her head towards him, just enough to make out half her face, which was still mostly obscured by her now disheveled hair.

“You still can’t see me,” she whispered in quiet, broken voice.

He was about to reply when he saw her fingers fluttering off the railing and she started to fall. Before he could even consciously think about it he launched forward and grappled to grab hold of her, any part of her. For a millisecond he thought he was too late then his hands tightened around her wrist and he lurched forward against the railing as she jerked to a stop, with only his hand keeping her from falling.

“Take my hand,” he ordered. “Grab my hand”

Her arm remained limp in his grasp and he could finally see her face fully from this angle. Her eyes fluttered shut despondently and she looked away from him.

“Hey, hey hey. Look at me!” he yelled franticly. “Look at me damn it. Listen to me Clarke.”

He could feel her arm start to slip through his hand; she was still looking down and away from him, completely limp, just waiting to fall.

“Look at me, Clarke,” he pleaded. “Listen to me, I see you.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide with sorrow and glistening with unshed tears. She looked at him like she didn’t quite believe what he’d said.

“I see you,” he repeated, looking her directly in the eye. Then again, even softer this time, “I see you.”

Something shifted on her face; disbelief gave way to fright and then panic. With great effort she brought her other arm up and he caught it and used the increased security to heave her up and over the balcony wall. As soon as her knees find a spot on the rail she moved her arms around his neck and they fell back together onto the ground. She pulled back slightly and looked at his face, beseeching, questioning and with not a little bit of awe. They were both taking heaving breaths from the exertion but her eyes never strayed from his.

With Clarke safely on the ground, Abby rushed forward, her hands immediately finding a spot on Clarke’s hair.

“C’mon, let’s go inside,” Abby plead, her arms fluttering down to pull at Clarke, trying to get her to follow her. Clarke’s eyes were still locked on Bellamy’s though, her arms still gripping his shoulders like it was keeping her from falling down still. Even as Abby hooked her arms underneath Clarke’s armpits and hauled her bodily up her eyes never left his. It wasn’t until Abby pulled Clarke into the room and drew the drapes that their gaze broke and Bellamy let out a shuddering sigh.

_God that was so close._

* * *

 

He stood in the side room, watching as Octavia shook Abby’s hand before moving over towards him.

“You’re a real hero big brother.”

He looked away and grunted in begrudging agreement before asking, “Do you think I could talk to her for a minute. Her mom won’t let me-”

“There’s going to be a press conference in half an hour,” she interrupted. “She wants to publicly thank you.”

“What? She should be getting help,” he hissed. “Not a fucking press conference.”

“I know, but TMZ got a tip and now it’s exploding and Abby wants to get ahead of it. They’re going to say that she just had a bit too much to drink and tripped. And look,” She said, pulling out a check from her back pocket that had $10,000 penned into the amounts payable line. “All you have to do is keep to the script.”

“This is bullshit, O, and you know it.”

“What am I supposed to do Bell? Go up against the matriarch of one of the most powerful families in Hollywood?”

As he realized what he was asking of her, he knew he had to drop it. He heaved a sigh then looked back at Octavia ruefully, “Well at least this will make a dent in your student loans.”

“I’m not taking your reward Bell.”

“Good thing its hush money then, right?”

The withering glare he received in return was enough to turn a mortal man to stone; luckily he had become immune to them due to prolonged exposure. He looped his arm around Octavia’s shoulders and placed a noisy smack to her temple as he ruffled her hair. Through the open door he caught a glimpse of a blonde head of hair turning away quickly.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy stood straight with his hands clasped in front of him trying to keep the frustration from showing on his face.

“Let this be a lesson to you all, never combine champagne, balconies and 5 inch heels,” Clarke lilted with a self-deprecating smile, and the whole room of reporters chuckled.

She had been restored by her team, and you couldn’t see a trace of the incident that had only happened an hour and a half ago on her face anymore. Gone was the smoky eye and sexy outfit, replaced with golden eye shadow and a light white sundress. She looked like she belonged at a high society luncheon. If it weren’t for the light bruises that surrounded her wrists Bellamy could have almost convinced himself that he had imagined the whole ordeal.

One of the greasier looking reporters yelling ‘How did you trip over a 4 and a half foot railing? Officer Blake was this a suicide attempt?’ Broke him out of his reverie.

Clarke looked over to him and widened her eyes almost imperceptibly in a plea. A nudge from Octavia propelled him towards the podium.

He cleared his throat and began in a monotone voice, “I was called into the hotel room, where I found Ms. Griffin holding on to the balcony railing. After I pulled her up it was clear that she had been drinking. Thank you”

He began to move back to the side when Clarke caught his arm. She gave him a quick smile before looking back at the crowd of reporters and saying with a mischievous look, “Truth is, I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for the quick thinking and let’s be honest, strength, of Officer Blake.” She squeezed the bicep her fingers were curled around for emphasis.

Then the phony smile dropped from her face as she turned back towards him, looking him in the eye again before thanking him and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savoring the feel of her soft lips on him, her sweet almond scent and the light press of her body against him. Just as soon as it began it was over and he jerked himself back to reality.

 

With that the press conference was over and they were herded out of the room. Octavia pulled Abby off to the side to discuss some urgent matter, which left him alone with Clarke. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from her, trying to avoid having to speak with her.

“So how are you going to use it?” She asked in a light tone, like this was all a big joke to her.

“Excuse me?”

“Your 15 minutes of fame, you’re the hero that saved Clarke Griffin. That’s enough to drop at least a few panties.”

“Just stop,” he responded wearily. When she gave him a questioning look he continued, “2 hours ago you tried to kill yourself by jumping off a twelfth floor balcony.”

“Yeah and two hours ago you said you saw me,” she replied with the same flippant tone. “Tell me Officer Blake what _do_ you see?”

He looked back over to her. She was perched on a stack of chairs nonchalantly, like she was a queen and it was her throne and nothing had ever gone amiss. Her walls had gone up so hard and so tight it was like a bodysuit, covering every inch of her body in artifice and anger. The girl who had begged for someone to see her had been buried beneath the walls, and now she was pretending like she didn't even exist. Anger bubbled up in his chest, at the situation, at himself, and though he knew it was unfair, at her. 

“You wanna know what I see?” He said before he could stop himself. “I see nothing.”

With that he walked out, not bothering to wait for Octavia or look back to see if his words had any effect on Clarke.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy deal with the fallout of her rescue.

_‘Hollywood is buzzing today with rumors that up and coming star, Clarke Griffin, tried to commit suicide last night by jumping from her twelfth story hotel balcony. Has the fame got to her already, or was this just an unfortunate accident like her team is claiming? E.T. has the exclusive first interview with Clarke herself so stay tuned!’_

Clarke watched the screen out of the corner of her eye, though it was partially obscured by Monroe, who was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She had been instructed to create a ‘no-makeup’ look by Abby, which incidentally included a fuckload of makeup. Clarke had kept track, and so far 17 products had been used on her face already. Monroe dabbed a bit of peach gloss in the center of her lips then stepped back and nodded decisively.

Clarke saw Abby striding in out of the corner of her eye. She came close and gave Clarke an appraising look before giving Monroe a few instructions and marching away again to go harass some other part of her team, or maybe some media liaison.

“We’re on in 15 minutes people,” her voice rang out across the suite. “We need her ready to go in 10 mins so we can go over her lines.”

Clarke stifled a sigh and turned her head to gaze out the window before Monroe caught her jaw and wrenched her back and went back to working on her face.  
  
_I see nothing.  
_ She had been replaying that conversation over and over since last night. Did he really mean it? Every time she closed her eyes she saw his hard face as he said it again. She tried to soothe herself by remembering what he had looked like above her, begging her to take his hand, telling her he saw her, but every time she did the last conversation flashed back across her eyes and she had to forcefully empty her mind. It was a trick she had a lot of practice with, every time she had to do something she was uncomfortable with, which was often, she did it. It didn’t last long but otherwise her thoughts crowded her mind, an endless reel of anxiety and fear. It was getting increasingly harder lately. No wonder he saw nothing, it was the truth.

“Clarke? Clarke?” She was broke out of her trance by her mother's increasingly sharp voice, when she looked up at her she continued,  “Honestly, I wish you would pay attention. We need to go over what you’re going to say so there are no mistakes.”

She nodded quietly and directed her attention to the notes on the iPad in front of her.  
  
Five minutes later she was in front of a giant camera. One of the camera assistants drew his hand out slowly from under her shirt, where he had been attached a mic and she held back a shudder. She accepted the proffered ear piece so she could hear the questions and folded her hands demurely in her lap, just like she had been told to do.

“Okay ready in 5...4…” the camera operator said then he gestured the last three numbers. Clarke replaced the blank look with a mild smile, she was told she wasn’t allowed to look as cheerful as she usually was, it would come across as fake seeing how she just had a traumatic experience. It was hard to hold back the bitter laughter at that statement.

The earpiece crackled to life.

“So now we turn to Clarke Griffin, who’s given Entertainment Tonight the exclusive on what happened last night. Hi Clarke, glad you could join us.”

“Of course, Rob, I always love it when we have a chance to have our paths cross.”

“You’re too sweet. So tell us what happened last night, we’ve all seen the photos of you dangling from the balcony, pretty scary stuff.”

“Yes, well as you all know I was lucky enough to win the teen choice award for best supporting actress last night-”

“Yes, congratulations!”

“Thanks. I was pretty excited, a little too excited if you get what I mean. I forgot that my alcohol tolerance had gone down during filming, we were out in the desert for quite some time, away from civilization, you know.”

“Right, filming the sequel to the film that gave you your breakout role, Sandblasters.”

“That’s right. I’ve never been a big partier but I had a few glasses of celebratory champagne. When I got back to my hotel decided to go out on my balcony to enjoy the summer night and I tripped while I was trying to take off my heels and went over the railing.”

“So let’s clear up the rumors once and for all, was this a suicide attempt?”

She looked directly at the camera and put on her most convincing face, “No, it was simply an accident. It would have been a tragic one if it weren’t for Officer Blake, who heard me and came just in time to lift me back up.”

“Quite the hero. But it definitely looks like he got his reward, that was quite a ‘thank you’ you gave him.”

She blushed prettily and responded, “Well he did save my life.”

“That he did. What did Lexa have to say about the kiss?”

Lexa, her sort of girlfriend. They had been costars on Sandblasters, and Fox had decided to capitalize on the fans who ‘shipped’ their two characters together and have them enter into a relationship for the press. Which had involved being ‘caught’ a few times by the paparazzi and going to the premiere together as ‘just friends’ while someone else leaked that they were dating. It could have been worse, Lexa was gorgeous, if a little cold, and they did have an okay time together. Now they attended a few events together every month and slept together casually when they were in the same town because why not?  It wasn’t anything serious, Lexa had been very clear about that, giving her a whole speech about how ‘love was weakness’ when the producers first told them about the plan.

“She’s just happy that he got there in time, if she were here she’d probably do the same.”

“Well based off twitter she would not be the only one.”  
  


* * *

  
Clarke gave a tinkling laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes and Bellamy heaved a sigh as he found the remote to turn the TV off. He couldn’t watch any more of this.

  
He had been up most of the night, tossing and turning, unable to go back to sleep after he woke from a nightmare. In it, it was him who had gone off the balcony, and her who grabbed him. She had been frantic, on the edge of panic, he could feel the sweat making her hands slick, and his arms slipping out from their grasp. She had kept on repeating ‘look at me, look at me, look at me’, but he couldn’t catch her eyes. She had started to cry and he felt her hot tears landing on his face and he finally looked up at her and said ‘I see nothing.’ Then he slipped out of her grip and the last thing he saw as he plummeted towards the ground was her tear stained face. He woke up just before he hit the ground, heart racing and head pounding.

  
God, why had he said that? Sure he had been angry, but it was so cruel.

Not only that, it was a lie. He saw her, he saw all the layers and the walls she put up, and he had seen her when they lay around her like rubble, when she was dangling from his hands. Looking at her felt like he had just discovered the sun, she was magnificent and terrifying and distant. He knew that if he got too close she would burn him up, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. When she had brushed past him in the hallway he had ached to protect her, gather her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. Maybe he should have. Maybe she needed someone to do that for her.

Octavia had texted him after he left last night, wondering where he had gone in such a rush but he had ignored it, not feeling in the mood to talk to anyone. When he had arrived back home he found his driveway surrounded by photographers and journalists, but he had ignored them and rushed into the house without a word. Cerberus, his rottweiler,  had greeted him at the door, which usually brought a smile to his face but just felt slightly suffocating then.

He looked down at his phone and saw that he had 20 unheard voicemails. He pressed the button to hear the first one.

‘ _Hi this is Rebecca calling from the L.A times_ -’  Click.

‘ _I’m a representative from People magazine_ -’ Click.

‘ _InTouch here_ -’ Click. He selected the rest and jabbed the delete button then scrubbed his face unhappily.

He went in to look at his text messages, let Octavia know that he was still alive, then flopped back onto his couch. Cerberus came bounding up and began licking his face, which was now in his reach. He sputtered at the attack, jerking back up to escape the assault. He looked down at Cerberus, who looked awfully smug, with a grin on his face. He glanced down at his watch and saw he still had another three hours until his shift began and decided that he would take Cerberus to the dog park.

 

He gathered a few toys and threw his leash on and headed out to his car.

“Officer Blake!” someone shouted from the end of the driveway.

Startled surprise turned quickly into annoyance as he turned around and saw the greasy reporter from last night standing in the middle of his driveway now.

“You’re trespassing,” he snarled.

“Hey, woah,” he replied holding his hands up in surrender. “Just wanted to talk.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“You and I both know their story is a lie, I’ll give you 50k for yours.”

“Not interested.”

“Look, the truth always comes out eventually, might as well get your share of it,” he said extended out a business card. “Just think about it, and call me when you change your mind.”

He took it, mostly just to get rid of him and got into his car. Hopefully a good long run with Cerberus would clear his mind.  
  


* * *

  
Clarke slumped back into the couch as the last reporter finally left the room. Her cheeks felt sore from smiling so much and she had a headache from staring at bright lights all day.

Someone placed a salad in front of her and she leaned forward to eat it, but before she could grab the dressing Abby swung in and took it, giving her a disapproving look. She stared at the dry salad and decided that nothing was better than rabbit food and slouched back into the couch.

There were still a few members of her team buzzing around the room, doing god knows what. She looked around covertly, then when she had reassured herself that no one was paying attention to her slipped her phone out of her purse on the couch beside her. She opened up twitter and looked at her mentions.

 

“If I was as bad an actress as @ClarkeGriffin I’d want to jump off a building too.”

“Guys c’mon,  @ClarkeGriffin didn’t try to commit suicide, you’d need to be able to show emotions to do that #worstactressever”

“@ClarkeGriffin Lexa is MINE, next time jump faster.”

“Oh poor little rich white girl @ClarkeGriffin tried to off herself? Come to me when you have real problems”

“This just in: Sandblasters 2 is so bad @ClarkeGriffin would rather die than be in it. #shocking #not

“@ClarkeGriffin is so useless she can’t even kill herself right.”

 

She felt her stomach drop and she quickly shut the phone off and shoved it back into her bag with trembling hands. She tried to take a deep breath but could only manage to suck in short puffs of air. The room started to spin a little and she could feel her rapid heartbeat in her fingertips when she saw Octavia approaching her.

  
“Hey, are you okay?” She asked with a concerned look on her face.

Not trusting herself to speak Clarke nodded quickly while trying to approximate a self-deprecating smile on her face. The wary look that flashed over Octavias let her know that she had not been that successful, but she replaced it with a conspiratorial smile as she drew her hands out from behind her back and presented Clarke with a packet of balsamic vinaigrette.

“Our secret,” she said with a wink.

The returning smile Clarke gave her this time was real, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. No seriously, don’t mention it. I think your mother will kill me, or at least fire me if she finds out I’m providing you with food that has fat in it. But honestly, who wants to eat dry salad? Gross.”

  
Clarke liked Octavia. She hadn’t been working for her for long, only 3 months, but she was nice. She was always going out of her way to do little things for Clarke that her mother had forbade. In another life she could have seen them being friends. She was outgoing and sunny and a bit wild. Maybe she would have been able to drag Clarke out of her shell. Maybe she would give her expletive ridden advice, like ‘do whatever the fuck you want Clarke, you only live once’ or ‘Tell your mom to get her own fucking life and stop riding your dick.’ As it was though, their relationship was tempered by the fact that she was her employee, or really more accurately Abby’s employee. Sneaking salad dressing and enabling actual rebellion were not the same thing.

She made quick work of the now edible salad and wiped the plate with a napkin to ensure Abby wouldn’t see she had used dressing. She didn’t want to get Octavia in trouble and to be honest she didn’t want the lecture. Last night had been bad enough.

 

After Bellamy had left, she had remained dazed and hurt in the back room, unable to move, or even really process what had just happened. She didn’t know how long she sat there before Abby came rushing in, chiding her for disappearing, even though she had been the one who had gone off first.

_Once she had bundled her back into the hotel room she had turned on Clarke and given her a wholly disapproving look._

_“What on earth were you thinking, Clarke?”_

_Clarke looked away and shrugged._

_“Look at me, Clarke. What happened tonight?”_

_“Nothing, It was just a mistake, okay?”_

_“That wasn’t nothing.”_

_“I just had a bit too much to drink, I swear.”_

_“Is this some sort of cry for help?”_

_Clarke put her best insolent teenager face on, “No.”_

_“Good, because you need to look around you. Everything we’ve been working towards for the past 10 years is finally coming true. You have nothing to cry about.”_

_“I know,” she replied, looking her directly in the eyes and using all her powers of deception. “It was a stupid mistake. It won’t happen again.”_

_Abby maintained their eye contact and said in an icy tone, “You can’t afford to be stupid.”_

_“I know,” she said, allowing herself to look away. Better to have Abby perceive her as slightly deceptive than to let her see the tears glittering in her eyes unbidden._

_“Do you? We are at a crucial point here, Clarke. Do you want to be the next Lindsay Lohan”_

_“Obviously not.”_

_“I want you to tell me that this is never going to happen again.”_

_“It won’t”_

_Abby reached for her hand and the expression on her face softened and for a moment she looked like the mother Clarke remembered from her childhood. The mother who was warm and asked Clarke how she was and always listened before giving her a hug. The mother who had disappeared when her father died when he was crushed by a falling turbine arm when he was inspecting a new facility he managed in his capacity as an environmental engineer._

_“Please, Clarke, I need to hear you say it.”_

_“It won’t happen again,” she replied softly, feeling hopeful that maybe this signalled a change in their relationship. She tried not to let her face fall when Abby’s soft expression shuttered immediately and she snatched her hand away._

_“Now that that’s settled get some sleep. We have a day full of damage control tomorrow.”_

Clarke tried to recall the look on her face now, the look that hinted that she still cared, but just like Bellamy’s expression when he said he saw her, it eluded her.  
  


* * *

  
As soon as Bellamy pushed the door to the precinct open, he heard the cheers of his colleagues.

Murphy bounded across the room to clap him on the back and exclaimed, “Here he is, the starlet savior!” He then leaned in and said in a fake conspiratorial whisper “So, tell us, how thankful was she?” before pantomiming a blowjob.

“Bite me, Murphy”

“Not my job anymore!”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and walked over to his desk, knowing that trying to stop Murphy from saying offensive things was an impossible task. When he got there he saw Miller sitting at his own desk, across from Bellamy’s with a smirk on his face.

“Not you too,” Bellamy groaned.

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh right, thanks! I am just so happy that I have a legion of paparazzi following me everywhere. How can I ever repay you?”

Miller’s smirk shifted to a look of displeasure, “Really?”

“It’s not really that bad,” he replied, trying to placate him before shifting gears. “So, how was your scientist?”

Miller looked away as a flush came over his cheeks, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right, so I wasn’t covering your shift so you could run into him?”

“We’re not talking about this.”

“After all the shit you gave me when I was trying and failing miserably to get with Roma? I don’t think so.”

Miller gave him a glare then decided to change tactics and replied, “So, what’s she like?”

“Roma? Did you not hear enough the first time around?”

“No, you idiot, Clarke Griffin.”

“Oh. You work with her more than me.”

“True, but my relationship with her has so far consisted of opening the door and saying ‘Welcome back Ms.Griffin.’ Not, you know, saving her life. So, what’s she like?”

   
He tried to think what he could say. Miller was his closest friend, the only person he he told more about his life was Octavia, but what had happened between him and Clarke felt private. He couldn’t tell her that he could still feel her wrist between his hands, that her eyes were the exact color of the ocean near his grandparents house in Pagudpud, Philippines, and he definitely couldn’t tell him that when he saw her fake smile that didn’t reach them he wanted to cry and punch a wall simultaneously.

   
Luckily he didn’t have to figure it out when Kane called him from across the room. He gave Miller a shrug and went over to see what Kane wanted.

Even though he had arrived ten minutes early for his shift and come over right when he called the look Kane gave him when he came into his office made him feel like he was inexcusably late.

“Blake, please take a seat.”

Bellamy did as he asked, trying not to let the nervousness he felt creep onto his face. Kane regarded him coolly for the moment before he said in a mild voice, “So, Clarke Griffin...”

Bellamy wasn’t sure what his response was supposed to be to that. Taking his silence as a cue, Kane continued, “As I’m sure you’re aware I am close with her family.”

Bellamy had known that. Apparently Kane and Abby had grown up together, somewhere in the 90210 , no doubt. Though Kane had gone the police academy route, and Abby had gone into the _academy_ route, they were still regularly photographed together at hoity toity events, that were ostensibly fundraisers but seemed more like a reason for rich people to flaunt their wealth if you asked Bellamy.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, well, I don’t need to remind you how imperative your discretion is in this manner, do I? I would hate to have your image to be associated with that affecting your chances at getting detective,” Kane said as he levelled his gaze at Bellamy.

“No, sir,” Bellamy ground out. It was one thing for Abby and Octavia to strong arm him into keeping quiet, but quite another to threaten his career.

“Good, you’re dismissed.”

Bellamy walked back out into the bullpen, dreading being interrogated further by Miller, or Murphy, or some other idiot that had no idea what they were talking about, but his dark glare must have warned them off. He spent the rest of his shift doing mindless paperwork, trying to keep his mind from drifting back towards Clarke, or that dream.

He was not successful.

* * *

 

Clarke lay in her bed staring at the ceiling willing herself to fall asleep.

Nothing. I see nothing.

She squeezed her eyes and tried to banish the thoughts from her head but they kept taunting her over and over. She flipped over and reached for her cellphone on the bedside table. She tapped out the message with shaking hands.

 

_Clarke Griffin  
_ _11:20_

_Hey, you up?_

   
She laid back and closed her eyes while she waited to see if Lexa would respond.

   
_Lexa Woods  
__11:22_

_Yeah. At some after party, the music is terrible but at least the girls are hot._

   
She knew it was kind of silly to feel disappointed that Lexa didn’t ask how she was, that was really not her style, but she still was.

   
_Clarke Griffin  
__11:23_

_Oh, I’m just in bed, had a long day…_

  
_Lexa Woods  
_ _11:24_

_Look, I’m out. If you’re still up in 4 hours we can have phone sex, but I don’t have time for this right now. Lars Von Trier is here and I need to convince him to cast me in his next film._  
  


_Clarke Griffin  
_ _11:25_

_Okay, sorry. Have fun._

 

She quickly blinked back the tears in her eyes, then threw the covers back and began pacing the room. _nothingnothingnothing._

“Stop thinking about it,” She ordered herself in a harsh whisper. She really didn’t want to wake up Abby.

All the terrible things she ever read about herself, or thought about herself ran on a loop as she paced her room, back and forth.

She stepped into the attached bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the girl staring back at her.  She leaned forward, until her nose almost pressed against the glass. Maybe if she got close enough she could see herself again. The real her. Not the stranger in front of her. Who was she? Who had she become? She searched the face in front of her but the longer she stared, the less sense it made. She could see the individual parts but couldn’t make sense of them. She brought a hand up to her face and pinched at her cheek, pushing and pulling the skin lightly, trying to rearrange her features. She lost her grip, and realized that she had started to cry. Tears ran down her face and her cheek was red where she had squeezed it. She couldn’t see herself anymore. She was gone.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She rushed back into her room and found the bottle of aspirin she had stashed away before locating the minibar and grabbing a handful of those tiny bottles of vodka. With trembling hands she opened the pill bottle and shook out twenty into her palm and then knocked them all back at once with the vodka. Then she slid down the door, leaned her head back and closed her eyes as the tears kept on coming.  
  


* * *

  
It felt weird to be back in this hallway again, Bellamy thought to himself as he approached Miller.

It was late, he knew that, almost midnight, but he had just got off shift and knew that he had to come right here and apologize. Miller’s eyebrows shot up infinitesimally before he settled into his usual expression of skeptical disdain.

“Blake, what are you doing here?”

Bellamy put on his best grin and pulled out a giant Starbucks cup from behind his back, one of those gross drinks that was 75% sugar and 10% burnt coffee and 15% markup that Bellamy knew Miller liked but never got for himself. Miller let out a chuckle but still took it.

“I’m not letting you in.”

“C’mon… I just need to talk to her. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Please Nate. It’s important.”

“Then it will still be important in the morning.”

Deciding that bribing and being nice was not going to work, Bellamy crossed his arms and glared at Miller, “Seriously, let me in.”

“Seriously. No,” he replied, as he crossed his own arms and stared right back.

Bellamy looked at him for another moment before throwing his hands up in defeat, “Okay, fine. I hate you.”

“I hate you too!” Yelled Miller amusedly as he walked away.

   
He was full of nervous energy,  he had psyched himself up on the way there to talk to her, not really considering he wouldn’t be allowed to, so he bypassed the elevator and headed for the stairs. He opened the door and almost ran into someone sitting at the top of the landing, leaning against the wall.

“Clarke?” he exclaimed, a lot louder than he intended to.

She startled, almost like he had woken her up, and looked at him. He didn’t think it was possible but she looked just as bad as she did the night before. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and her hair was pulled back into a bun, but almost half of it had escaped and was floating around her face. She was wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt that had fallen off one shoulder, revealing a bra strap. She had light scratch marks on her arm and her face was flushed and a little swollen looking.

“Officer Blake,” She slurred quietly and it was all Bellamy could do not to recoil at the smell of vodka and vomit on her breath. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I came to apologize to you.”

She looked a little taken aback, “Oh…”

“I lied-” he began. He saw her face fall and hurried on quickly, “After the press conference I mean. I lied. I don’t see nothing.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. I was just angry about having to lie and I took it out on you and it was totally inexcusable. I am so sorry.”

“Oh,” she said again, looking down.

Then, because he would never forgive himself if he walked away again he asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, are you okay?”

Her bottom lip began to tremble and he saw her eyes fill with tears. She shook her head.

“I can’t do anything right,” she finally said quietly.

“Hey, I’m sure that’s not true,” he replied, hesitating for a moment before giving in and sitting down beside her on the step.

“No, it’s true. I couldn’t even kill myself right-”

“Hey,” he said, grabbing her shoulders and turning her towards him. “That’s not something you should want to do right. Okay?”

Her eyes searched his for a moment before she nodded lightly. He could see her expression start to shutter again and rushed to change the subject, to keep her talking and open to him, “So, what are you doing here?”

“I had to get away.”

“You didn’t get very far.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Another thing I can’t do right. I realized I didn’t have anywhere to go, or any way to get myself there, or any chance of getting past the press unnoticed.”

Before he could stop himself, he replied, “I could help with all of those things.”

She looked back up at him with a tremulous smile, “Yeah?”

It was the first real smile he had seen on her face, even though it was small, he couldn’t help but return it. He stood up and extended his hand out to her, to help her up.

“C’mon princess, let’s get you out of here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy Blake: Canon Guilt Machine.  
> Let me know what you think! (if you want!)

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr at [Klokkombikru](http://klokkombikru.tumblr.com/)


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